


Cold Hands, Warm Fire

by ladyillusion



Series: Divergent Worlds [9]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Audio Format: MP3, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyillusion/pseuds/ladyillusion
Summary: Panic seized Hiei. Had the white walkers taken him captive?No. They didn’t take captives. They killed.





	Cold Hands, Warm Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is available in audio form for those who would prefer to listen rather than read. Please note that this is a text to speech recording, which means that there may be some issues with it.
> 
> [Stream or download MP3 via Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AaOd42xFV6newWVaGW9pcehOzHi45Of8/view?usp=sharing)

Hiei opened his eyes slowly. Above him, tree branches stretched out long, bare limbs beneath a cloudy grey sky. He grunted as he was jostled by a bump.

He looked down at himself, alarmed by what he saw. He was bound by rope to what seemed to be logs. His head ached. His back hurt. He couldn’t feel his hands. Or his legs. His clothes were in bloody tatters and his sword was missing.

Hiei struggled to remember what had happened as he continued to bounce along the forest floor. He’d been with his patrol group, on their way to meet with a wildling group that claimed to have information that would be valuable to the Night’s Watch. Hiei had been skeptical but orders were orders, and he’d had to go.

They’d been ambushed… by white walkers. Hiei distinctly remembered those glowing ice-blue eyes burning with malevolence. That was a sight that no one could forget. Just thinking about it sent a lightning bolt of fear through his body. He’d never been so mortally terrified in his life.

He’d been separated from the rest of the group. He’d fallen… down a steep incline covered with snow? He couldn’t quite remember that part.

Panic seized Hiei. Had the white walkers taken him captive?

No. They didn’t take captives. They killed.

But the wildlings took captives.

There was nothing Hiei could do for the moment. Whatever his captor or captors had in mind for him was a mystery. What use could he possibly be to a wildling in his condition?

The gnarled branches of the trees above him grew more plentiful as they entered the forest. Hiei drifted in and out of consciousness. He was often jolted rudely awake by particularly jarring bumps.

He didn’t remember being untied from the makeshift sled of logs or being carried into a dwelling, but when he woke, it was to flickering firelight and the smell of cooking broth.

Hiei did a quick check of himself. He was naked but for the bandages that liberally covered him. A thick woollen blanket had been draped over him.

Well, this was better than being tied to a stake and left to freeze in the frigid air, Hiei decided.

Or being turned into a mindless, rotting soldier.

Hiei wriggled his fingers. Little sparks of pain went through him. That was good. That meant he still had fingers.

But he still couldn’t feel his legs.

Hiei swallowed down his fear. He’d deal with that later, when he had a better understanding of what was going on.

The room he was in was small and cluttered. Hiei guessed that it was a cabin, probably located in the forest he’d passed through. He’d heard that some wildlings had made their homes in little, isolated forests. That was lunacy, as far as Hiei was concerned. Those wildlings were easy pickings for any white walker looking to expand the ranks.

A lone figure was bent over a cooking pot, stirring whatever was inside. Their back was to Hiei. A curtain of thick red hair fell down their back, gleaming in the firelight.

Was his captor a woman or a man? How humiliating would it be to be captured by a woman? Hiei was sure that he’d never live it down. His brothers in the Night’s Watch would make sure of that.

If he survived this.

The figure straightened, glancing over one shoulder toward Hiei. Hiei caught a flash of forest-green iris before the stranger turned back to the pot to place the ladle inside. Then the stranger fully turned to Hiei, revealing a smooth, handsome face.

Hiei let out a breath of relief. He was safe from ridicule. It was a man. A very pretty, feminine man, but definitely a man.

Hiei’s host rose, showing a slender form clad in mismatched clothing. He moved with a fluid ease toward the bed that Hiei lay on before kneeling down beside it.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Hiei studied him closely, doubtful of his intentions, despite the man’s show of concern.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he said.

The man’s jade eyes clouded over with worry.

“I was afraid of that,” he murmured, his voice dropping in volume. He tugged off the blanket, ignoring Hiei’s grumbled protest. He pressed his fingers into the flesh of Hiei’s thigh.

“Can you feel that?” he asked.

“No.”

The man’s frown deepened as he drew the blanket back up, tucking it in tightly.

“There isn’t much I can do about that,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

He actually did look genuinely sorry. Hiei was thoroughly confused. Why should he be sorry? Why would a wildling care about what happened to him?

He was sure that this man was a wildling now. He certainly wasn’t a white walker. That didn’t leave many possibilities out here.

“Who are you?” Hiei asked him. “Why did you help me?”

“My name is Kurama,” the man said. “As for why I helped you, well, I would certainly hope that someone else would do the same for me if I were to ever find myself in your position.”

He rose to his feet and returned to the pot, picking up the ladle and stirring once again. The smell wafting out of it was mouth-watering. Hiei’s stomach growled in anticipation. He was glad that his stomach at least still functioned properly, even if the rest of him didn’t.

“Do you live out here alone?” Hiei asked Kurama’s back.

His curtain of red hair shimmered as Kurama shifted slightly, though he didn’t turn to look at Hiei. His attention remained focused on the cooking broth as he said, “Yes. I’ve lived here in this forest for years.”

“But… the white walkers?” Hiei asked.

“Don’t dare step among these trees,” Kurama said. “This forest and I… have an understanding.”

“An understanding?”

Kurama did glance over his shoulder then, a smirk gracing his face. “Holed up behind your tall walls of stone, you’ve forgotten the old ways,” he said. “The land is alive and it listens, if you know how to speak to it.”

Hiei didn’t know what to say to that so he kept silent as Kurama stirred the broth. Old ways? It sounded too much like magic for his liking.

What kind of magic could prevent a white walker from entering a forest? The only way Hiei could think of to protect such a dwelling was to surround it with a high wall.

Yet this man had presumably survived for years out here on his own, if he were telling the truth. That was strange, even for wildlings. They tended to band together in small groups. Safety in numbers.

“So, you talk to the trees,” Hiei said dryly. “And they do what? Ask the white walkers to leave?”

Kurama began to prepare the food as he chuckled to himself.

“They don’t ask the white walkers to leave,” he said as he ladled broth into a bowl.

“What do they do?” Hiei asked curiously.

Kurama hummed softly but he didn’t answer the question. Hiei’s stomach growled again as Kurama approached him with the bowl in hand.

“I imagine this isn’t what you’re used to,” he said as he knelt beside the bed.

Hiei scowled as he realised that he wouldn’t be able to hold the spoon. His hands were too heavily bandaged and his fingers still hurt. Kurama smiled thinly as he offered the first spoonful.

Hiei contemplated making an issue of the situation, but decided against it. He wanted that food too badly. If he was too difficult, then Kurama might not feed him at all.

Kurama ate his own meal while Hiei tried to sleep. He was warm, but not particularly comfortable. Kurama’s presence didn’t help. The young man pottered around the room, cleaning up after their dinner and performing other chores.

Kurama turned, a pile of clothing in hand, to see Hiei staring at him. Hiei looked away, directing his eyes up at the wooden beams of the ceiling instead.

“Is everything all right?” Kurama asked him.

“Yeah. I just can’t sleep,” Hiei admitted.

Kurama set down his pile of clothing and walked over to a wooden box in the corner of the room. He lifted the lid and fished around for a moment before he surfaced with a small vial in his hand.

Hiei eyed it doubtfully as Kurama approached.

“What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.

“It is a sleeping potion,” Kurama informed him.

Hiei’s doubt grew as he watched Kurama shake the vial in one slender hand before he popped the cork.

“Just a few drops, I think,” Kurama murmured. “I was told that it is quite potent.”

Still skeptical, Hiei asked, “Where did you get it?”

“From the nearby settlement,” Kurama said. “It is made from a rare plant that grows in this forest. If you would please open your mouth…”

“I don’t know you,” Hiei pointed out. “Why should I let you drug me?”

One fine red eyebrow arched. “You know my name,” Kurama told him.

“You don’t know mine,” Hiei said.

Kurama sat back on his heels. “Then tell me,” he said. His eyes glittered, as if he were a dog that had just sighted a treat. Hiei didn’t understand the reaction, but pushed on anyway.

“Why should I?” he asked.

“Because then we would know each other,” Kurama said. His lips were tilted slightly up at the corners. His back was straight and his hands rested on his knees, vial still clutched in his fingers. He looked far too innocent and pleased with himself for Hiei’s liking. It was an odd change.

“Just knowing someone’s name doesn’t mean that you know them,” Hiei argued.

“If I wanted to do anything… unsavoury to you, then I would have done so by now,” Kurama pointed out. “You are in no position to stop me.”

He had a good point there.

“If you don’t want the potion, little man, then just say you don’t want it. It does not matter to me if you do not sleep,” Kurama told him.

“Little man?” Hiei demanded.

Kurama shrugged. “You still haven’t told me your name,” he said. “What else should I call you?”

“It’s Hiei,” Hiei muttered resentfully. Giving this stranger his name was more preferable than being called ‘little man’. He got enough crap from the other men in the Night’s Watch about his small stature. The veterans knew better than to mess with him now, but new recruits still needed to be taught a lesson. As much as Hiei enjoyed putting them in their place, a part of him wished that he didn’t have to. He’d earned his place among them. Why did he constantly have to prove it?

But now, what good was that? In his current condition, he was useless to the Night’s Watch. He was just another mouth to feed. A leech taking up precious resources and giving nothing back in return.

How long would it be before his host realised that? How long before he decided that feeding Hiei wasn’t worth it?

Hiei had to recover the use of his legs before that happened. He refused to accept that the paralysis was permanent.

Any obstacle could be overcome if you put the work in.

“Hiei what?” Kurama inquired.

“Just Hiei,” Hiei snapped.

“All right. Now, will you take this or not, Hiei?”

Hiei studied the potion Kurama held up. The vial was half-full of a cloudy, dark blue liquid.

“I suppose,” he said reluctantly.

Kurama administered the potion without further comment. As the redhead moved to replace the vial back where he’d retrieved it from, Hiei tried to relax.

The potion had tasted strangely like orange juice. As the minutes ticked by, Hiei began to think that Kurama had been taken advantage of by the person who sold him the potion. It didn’t seem to be working.

“Hey,” he said, drawing Kurama’s attention to him.

“Yes?”

Kurama looked over to him from where he was preparing what Hiei suspected would be his own bed for the night. He was laying out blankets on the floor near the door of the room. The fire still burned, reflecting in Kurama’s leaf-green eyes.

“You have to take me back to the wall,” he said.

Kurama’s lips thinned. “Your people have no love for wildlings,” he pointed out as he laid out a fox fur blanket.

“I can’t stay here,” Hiei protested. “I’m injured. I need treatment.”

“You’re getting it.”

Kurama’s features seemed to have hardened. His eyes looked as cold as those of the white walkers.

“I’m grateful,” Hiei said tightly. “But I need to go back to the wall. Those people are my family. I don’t even know what happened to the others who were with me.”

Kurama’s eyes glittered in the firelight. “They didn’t come looking for you,” he pointed out, his voice as cold as the air outside.

Hiei’s heart sank. That was true. Were they hurt?

Or dead?

“I have to go back to the wall,” he repeated firmly.

“I won’t take you there,” Kurama said resolutely. “If you can get there by yourself, feel free.”

“You know I can’t,” Hiei snapped bitterly.

“Then you won’t be going,” Kurama returned, his own voice just as bitter as Hiei’s. “Now sleep.” The last words were said with a firm note.

And, as if his words had been a command, the potion kicked in, dragging Hiei unwillingly into unconsciousness.

* * *

Kurama studied the sleeping stranger currently tucked into his bed with a frown. He had to admit that he hadn’t really thought this through.

The little man’s short black hair was rumpled and there was some blood still caked in the strands. It would have to be properly washed when the little man was up to it. His eyes had startled Kurama. They were a very unusual blood-red colour.

Still, blood-red was better than dead blue.

His injuries were quite serious. There were bruises and cuts all over his body from his fall. Kurama had been concerned about frostbite, but the little man had been lucky there. His sturdy clothing had been just enough to protect him from losing any toes or fingers.

He’d intended to just treat the black-haired little man’s injuries and send him on his way. But it seemed that things weren’t going to be that simple.

Kurama glanced over at the man’s sword resting against the wall of the cabin. That, at least, would be useful. It was of good quality and in good condition.

He’d stumbled across the man while returning from the nearest wildling settlement with fresh food. He’d thought that the young man was dead at first. His form had been crumpled at the bottom of the steep incline of the mountain that loomed over Kurama’s forest.

Kurama had checked him over, intending to take anything he found of use, but while he was in the process of relieving the man of what little he carried of value, he’d discovered a pulse. Weak, but there.

Kurama had darted through the snow, quick as the fox he was sometimes referred to as by those who knew him. He’d returned to his cabin, retrieved some rope and logs, then returned to the man.

Hampered with his load, his return trip had been much slower. He’d arrived expecting to find the little man dead, but his pulse was still steady. Kurama had tied the logs together and then tied the man to the logs. He’d dragged him back through the snow to his cabin.

Kurama tucked himself between the blankets in the makeshift bed he’d made on the hard wooden floor. He suspected that he’d have to get used to it. If the little man truly couldn’t walk, then he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

Maybe having company wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than the trees. They listened well, but they didn’t talk back.


End file.
